The Golden Darkness/Resurrection
RESURRECTION.
All night I sinned, and all the daytime
I brooded through in agony,
My soul was filled with bitter crying
Not so much for what died of me,
As for the life that still persisted,
The wronged and plundered life struck dumb,
Robbed of its dream, its bit of beauty,
Its singing that would never come.
I brooded through in agony,
My soul was filled with bitter crying
Not so much for what died of me,
As for the life that still persisted,
The wronged and plundered life struck dumb,
Robbed of its dream, its bit of beauty,
Its singing that would never come.
Throughout the mournful hours I brooded,
Nothing, nothing seemed left to me,
But in the grey, the early twilight
I left my room of agony.
And on the street soft winds were blowing,
Beauty assailed me, wild and strange,
Faces and footfalls and warm kind laughter. . . .
Over my aching came a change;
Nothing, nothing seemed left to me,
But in the grey, the early twilight
I left my room of agony.
And on the street soft winds were blowing,
Beauty assailed me, wild and strange,
Faces and footfalls and warm kind laughter. . . .
Over my aching came a change;
I felt like one who from a mouldy
Cold grave has risen up again,
And wanders down a street at sunset,
Seeing, once more, the world of men,
The trees, the roofs, the sky of colors,
And wondering, his senses freed,
If this could be the world he died in,
If this could be his world indeed!
Cold grave has risen up again,
And wanders down a street at sunset,
Seeing, once more, the world of men,
The trees, the roofs, the sky of colors,
And wondering, his senses freed,
If this could be the world he died in,
If this could be his world indeed!